


The Weight of Hallownest

by KingSnow5750



Series: Hollow Knight One Shots [2]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 10:23:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21297902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingSnow5750/pseuds/KingSnow5750
Summary: In Hallownest, death comes for even the strongest bugs. Ghost isn't usually phased by death, but an old memory sends them down the well to give peace to their lost friends
Series: Hollow Knight One Shots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557634
Comments: 2
Kudos: 97





	The Weight of Hallownest

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, this is more popular than I thought it would be,thank you so much for that! I may make this a series or collection if you guys would like. I've already got another part in the making!

_ Ghost pushed through the small shop's door, finding an extra resident among the tightly packed shelves. Quirrel was not someone they had seen here before. His conversation trailed off as both he and Lemm turned to Ghost. "Hello, my short friend. How strange this world is for us to meet so often," he turns his face to Lemm, gesturing towards Ghost. "Are they a regular customer of yours?" _

_ "Unfortunately." Lemm huffed "Let me guess, more wanderer's journals? Well, that can wait a bit." _

_ Quirrel shuffled over toward the knight, trying to gaze their emotions to no avail. "I'd hate to leave someone out of a conversation. That mask may look empty, but there is… something behind it," With a glance to Ghost he asked, "You must have some liking of history to be down here often. Have you ever heard of Hallow's Eve? Its really a quite fascinating tradition from around here. Children dressed up as creatures like--" _

_ "Bah, as if that's the interesting part!" Lemm cut in, "A ritual to please the ancient Gods and honor the dead, and you care about the costumes they wore!" He stepped into a back room, and after a few moments the sound of clanking kitchen utensils echoed into the room. _

_ Quirrel chuckled, seemingly used to this behavior. "Every part of a tradition has worth in history," Quirrel shot back through the door. He leaned in towards Ghost's nonexistent ear and stage whispered, "Lemm knows this well, he just likes to be grumpy about it," he sits down next to the coffee table, and pats the seat beside him. "Sit down, friend. He's certainly not mad, just boiling some tea. I do find that's a great drink to have a friendly debate over, and we both know how Lemm can be." Ghost settled down into the cozy cushions, mind fading into sleep as they waited for a hot drink and the history of a dead kingdom. _

_ … _

Ghost woke up on an iron bench, sleepiness quickly fading, and with it the dream their mind had conjured. Dreaming was only a recent phenomenon for them, and their mind didn't seem designed for remembering them. 

Today felt special somehow. Was their dream a prophecy, foretelling the holiday, or was it merely a lost memory? It didn't matter. Ghost could recall parts of the conversation, scattered and faded in a mind that wasn't meant to exist. Honoring the dead. They knew many people that were now dead, including… no. Quirrel was not dead.

But how do bugs honor the dead? The only honor Ghost knew of was that spoken by Orgrim, and that didn't seem applicable. They remembered… candies? Or pastries? Maybe it was... 

_ As Ghost gently set the flower onto the grave's vase, they caught a glimpse of light and a soft whisper, " _ Thank you."

Flowers. Thats what they needed.

…

Before picking the delicate flowers, Ghost double checked their map, where they had pushed pins where they needed to go. Forgotten crossroads, Queen's Garden, and… Blue Lake. Ghost plotted a careful path, knowing they needed to be extra careful.

Ghost had only met Cloth a few times, but she was one of the only friends they had made. They didn't feel sad about her death; They knew Cloth was happy now, there was no point in mourning. Ghost wasn't sure what 'honor' was, but surely Cloth had it. She had helped them kill the Traitor Lord.

Her body was where she had died, unmarred by infection. The little knight almost wished her essence was still with her, so she could see their last gift. Ghost wondered if she would like this, or if she would scoff at the softness of this last gift. But they could not know this, so they simply picked a nice white flower and started digging a place for it in the soft, fragrant soil.

…

In an ideal world, Ghost could give a flower to each of their lost siblings. Even if they could find enough flowers in the whole world for all of their kin, only the hardiest could survive in the abyss, and a flower as delicate as theirs surely wasn't capable.

Their was one place where their kind had died that was able to support such life. Although The Hollow Knight wasn't dead, they werent really alive. Their screams were full of agony, the echoes of a half-living, half-thinking shell. Ghost know the saccrifice was not their choice, but they saw the Black Egg Temple as a tombstone for the vessels.

The temple was silent as Ghost settled in front of it. Memories flooded back to them. Quirrel, reminiscing about this strange place that he almost knew. And even farther back, the feel of their insides unraveling as they fell, landing with not a  _ thunk _ , but a  _ clatter _ as their shell collided with the thousands of other empty shells that weren't so lucky. But they saw it as they fell. They met the Knight's eyes, and saw the glimmer of a will. One day, Ghost would come back for Hollow. Perhaps they could save them. Perhaps they could only end their suffering.

As Ghost set the flower down, something was missing. This was clearly a grave for someone, but nobody knew of the knight laying within, and thats not even to speak of the abyss. Ghost eventually found a rock, relatively flat and large, to record their words. They carefully cut the stone with their nail. Their elegy was cut from simple, precise letters.

_ Hallownest shall not forget the unsung heroes, _

_ The Hollow Knight, with the greatest burden. _

_ Nobody could see your mind, _

_ Nobody could see destiny. _

_ I am here, and I remember you. _

_ Hallownest shall not forget the fallen children _

_ The Lost Ones who call the Abyss their home, _

_ Their black blood spilled and their lives wasted _

_ The Pale King refuses to acknowledge, _

_ But I am here, and I remember you _

_ The shame of sacrifice causes Hollownest to forget. But we are ready to remember and honor those born to our cause, and those who died by it. _

Ghost carefully brushed off the stone tablet. Not even the Hollow Knight was remembered by the greatest of historians. Nobody wrote about them, their only memorial being their lonely statue. Ghost hoped this was a start. The vessels deserved it.

As they plant the flower and walk away they finally hear a scream. However, this one was different. Although it was still full of pain, there was something mighty within it. Something determined.

Something hopeful.

…

This flower was not for a dead person. This was merely a… goodbye gift. Ghost stepped out onto the course sands of the lake, seeing a fine nail stuck into the sand. They had never taken a close look at it before, but now they took it in. It was simple, but powerful and gleaming platinum, with intricate little designs in the hilt. If Quirrel was just going away, why would he leave such a fine nail? No, Quirrel just didn't want to fight anymore. He had served his purpose and wanted to retire.

Ghost dug a hole in the shore as they contemplated where Quirrel could be. They didn't have many options, not remembering much of the world outside Hallownest. Memories and dreams seemed to slip from them easily, slick like the void that makes up their body. Their mind was not meant to think or have a will, so developing them wasn't easy.

As Ghost went to plant the flower, they hesitated. Something wasn't right about this. Quirrel wasn't dead. He was coming back, and even if he didn't it was no reason to treat him like Cloth or their siblings. Maybe they should think here for awhile. Maybe they should wait for Quirrel to come back.

Upon the shore of the Blue Lake, the calm splashing of waves was somehow distracting, deafening. He would come back, he had to come back. He had to be okay.

But he didn't have to come back. He was an adventurer.

He could be dead.

  
  


Quirrel was never coming back, was he?

The creeping loneliness suddenly washed over them. Quirrel was  _ gone _ . They felt a panging, twisting sadness at that. A sadness that can't be released, can't be cried or yelled out, even if they could do those things. There was no going back or compromise. No closure.

Ghost mulled over this, staring at the nail, knowing that was all there was left. When they found the will to accept this, just a bit, they forced their limbs to move and finish the job. Quirrel isn't gone. Cloth isn't gone. Their siblings and everyone else in this kingdom weren't gone. Their dreams were still here in this land, and as long as Ghost was here, they would protect them. Until they could meet again and put them all to rest.

Ghost curled up on the damp sands of the Blue Lake and slept with a great sadness, but a burden the size of all of Hallownest lifted off of their soul.

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Any feedback would be a great help.


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